


What a World, What a Life, I'm--

by Psilent (HereThereBeFic)



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Episode tag: it's only a paper moon, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, PTSD, Recovery, friendship to romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-23 01:03:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2528246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HereThereBeFic/pseuds/Psilent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They have dinner at Quark's, nicely secluded but not quite isolated in a corner on the upper level. Jake asks if he bribed his uncle for the table and Nog just grins at them both and lets them wonder. (The answer is yes.)</p><p>Kesha understands more than he gave her credit for.</p><p>"My older sister was in the resistance," she says, and leaves it at that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What a World, What a Life, I'm--

**Author's Note:**

> **Content Warnings:** PTSD, loss of limb, gun violence, war, internalized homophobia. Nothing is graphically described.
> 
>  **ETA:** The characters paired together in this fic are around the same age, but there is a significant age difference (nine years) between their actors that I was unaware of at the time. Both of the characters and both of the actors are over the age of eighteen – well, er, the older character is an alien, but he's an adult – for the duration of this fic, except for the opening (up to the italicized bit).

The first thing he ought to do, he thinks, is apologize to Riska and Leanne. Possibly the first ten things he ought to do are apologize to Riska and Leanne. 

_Sorry_ , he thinks. _There's something very wrong with me and I was overcompensating, but that's no excuse._

_Sorry_ , he writes. _I'm a jerk. If you go back to Quark's tomorrow and tell him Nog sent you, I have paid for an hour of holosuite time with a program of your choosing. I hope you will not hold my behavior against Jake. If it helps, he hates me for it._

The second or eleventh thing to do is not panic. 

_Starfleet_ , he thinks, staring up at his bedroom ceiling. 

He's been considering it. He's been considering it for much longer than he's been consciously aware of - since before he decided he never wanted to feel as helpless as he did his first time in the Gamma quadrant, stranded in a runabout with no working knowledge. 

He is never going to be a real Ferengi. This is only the latest in a long line of disasters telling him exactly that. Cargo Bay 11 is full of self-sealing stem bolts telling him exactly that. His Attainment Ceremony looms on the horizon and his uncle's bar is poised to become the whole of his life - his earliest memories, his only possible future. 

_Starfleet_ , he thinks, and lies awake the rest of the night thinking of little else. 

— 

_"Didn't he just get shot a minute ago?"_

_"Yeah, he took one in the arm."_

_"He's not bleeding. He's not even in pain."_

_Vic is frustrated, tells him it's only a movie._

_Only a movie, only a lightbulb, only a pile of holographic money hiding between the lines of some holographic books. Nog likes it here._

—

Jake comes home and Nog is there. On the couch. Reading a PADD. Like the last couple of weeks haven't happened. 

Jake stares at him from the doorway, realizes he's keeping it open and steps forward just far enough to let it slide shut. "Hey." 

"Hey." 

"You're... You're back." Ow. Sometimes he thinks he's drawn to writing in part because it gives him all the time he needs to figure out what to say. Other times, he's sure of it. 

"I guess." Nog sets the PADD aside and looks him in the eye. "I'm sorry I hit you." 

"It's... I mean." It's not okay, not really, but nothing is. Jake shrugs and tries not to break eye contact. "You lose a leg and I yell at you over a song. Let's say we're even." 

Nog grins. "Sure. Can I buy you dinner tomorrow night? You and Kesha. I want to make up for the one I... interrupted." 

"Uh - yeah, sure." He hopes he doesn't mean at Vic's. He doesn't ask. "So, you're... I mean..." 

"I'm not fixed, if that's what you're trying to ask," Nog says sharply. 

Jake winces. "Right. Sorry. But I mean. You're back. Back in the real world." 

"...Yeah." 

"I, uh. I have some writing to work on. Uh -" He pauses, guilty. "Your song is in my desk. I'll grab it for you." 

Nog shrugs and looks back at his PADD. "I don't need it. I'm just catching up on some technical reading." 

Jakes breathes a small sigh of relief and inwardly kicks himself for it. "Cool. So. Uh, we should have lunch together later. If you want. At the replimat or something?" 

"Sounds good." 

Jake nods, satisfied that he somehow hasn't ruined anything, and heads into his room. Nog's voice stops him at the door. 

"Does anyone ever get shot in your stories? And survive?" 

Jake feels cold. He takes a breath and turns around. "I don't know. I mean, not yet. It could happen, I guess." 

Nog is gazing up at the ceiling, a faraway look in his eyes. "Make sure they're not fine in the next scene." 

"Okay." 

"People don't just... get shot. They get shot and then they've... been shot. Do you know what I mean?" 

"I think so." 

Nog gets up from the couch - slowly, unevenly, and there is no cane in sight. Jake offers no assistance and tries not to stare. Nog smiles at him like he knows exactly what he's thinking. "I have something to discuss with my uncle. I'll be back in time for lunch." 

\--- 

Jake almost expects Nog to be nervous in the crowded replimat, and is already thoroughly berating himself for the suggestion when Nog waves him to a table and says he'll grab both their plates – and Jake realizes he has, after all, been spending most of his time lately in a crowded nightclub. 

Nog seems embarrassed when he returns with the food. "I forgot this wasn't my job for a second," he says, laughing at himself. "I joined Starfleet to get _away_ from waiting tables, now look where it's got me." 

Jake grins. "I could get used to it." 

"Don't count on it. I go back on light duty tomorrow." 

"That's great!" 

Nog smiles a nervous smile. "Yeah. Just a couple hours a day. But I think it will be... I think it will feel good to wear a uniform again." 

Jake doesn't know what to say to that. He takes a bite instead. 

"I don't feel like a hero," Nog says, and Jake puts down his fork. 

"What do you mean?" 

"Kesha said you called me a hero. She said everyone has been calling me that. All I did was get shot." 

"In the line of duty," Jake points out. 

Nog shakes his head. "We walked into an ambush. Lieutenant Larkin _died_. Call her a hero. I spent the real battle lying unconscious on a table." 

"I'm not going to argue the specifics," Jake says slowly, as images come, unbidden, of Ajilon Prime. "And I won't say it anymore, if you don't like it. But you should know, I already... I thought you were a hero before this happened." 

Nog stares at him. "What?" 

Jake leans over the table, speaking quickly and quietly and trying desperately not to sound like he's making this up as he goes along. He's not. "Everyone says 'first Ferengi in Starfleet' now like it was just a matter of time or something - they don't think about what you've gone through for it. And I mean - we weren't at war when you joined, but the Dominion was around, and we all knew something was coming. You're... You know. You're really brave." 

"...Thank you." Nog clears his throat and looks down at his plate. "I didn't realize you... Thank you." 

"I mean it." 

Nog glances up at him. Smiles thinly, looks back down, and Jake recognizes the plea for a new subject. 

"I've been thinking of writing a time travel story." 

" _Why_?" 

"Okay, just listen - remember the story I told Weyoun? About the baseball card? I think I could really expand on that!" 

"That doesn't mean you _should_." 

\--- 

They have dinner at Quark's, nicely secluded but not quite isolated in a corner on the upper level. Jake asks if he bribed his uncle for the table and Nog just grins at them both and lets them wonder. (The answer is yes.) 

Kesha understands more than he gave her credit for. 

"My older sister was in the resistance," she says, and leaves it at that. 

The conversation wanders between light, pleasant topics, and Nog's mind wanders with it until he hears Kesha say that this is a great way to spend her last couple of days on the station. 

"What?" 

"Jake didn't tell you?" 

Jake did not. Kesha smiles, and it's not as sad as Nog would expect. "My family is moving back to Bajor, at least until everything..." 

She lets the sentence hang. Nog nods his understanding. A lot of families are relocating - until everything blows over, until things die down, just for a change of scenery, _because it's easier to pretend there's not a war on when you're not living on the front lines,_ his uncle told him, cleaning glasses after the bar closed, and Nog saw his point well enough that he didn't snap at him that they've both seen the front lines and this isn't even close. 

"I'm kind of looking forward to it," Kesha is saying, wrapping her arm around Jake as if to add, _no offense._ She bites her lip, suddenly wistful. "There's this girl..." 

\--- 

"We were just having some fun," Jake says later, sprawled on the floor with a writing PADD facedown on his chest. "I knew, Rana knew. It's all fine." 

Nog hums noncommittally and wonders if it would hurt to fall asleep on the couch. 

\--- 

Starfleet is increasing his workload slowly, piece by piece. Every other day he works roughly half a shift. Every other day he works two hours. He wants to tell Captain Sisko he can handle more, but he's exhausted most of the time and he keeps catching himself limping home at the end of the longer days. 

Ezri says he's doing well. He tries to listen to her. 

\--- 

"Ezri thinks I should wait to tell you this until I'm further along in my recovery. She's probably right." She's definitely right. He should. Which doesn't mean he _can_. "But I've been waiting until later for - a long time. And now - now I can't be sure there's even going to _be_ a _later_ anymore." 

He wants to run away. He wants to change his mind and play it safe. He wants to be writing this down in a note to leave on Jake's desk. 

He's a Starfleet officer and a Ferengi and he's going to risk ruining this friendship in person. 

\--- 

The height difference is ridiculous. They kiss on the floor.


End file.
